


A Hel of a Time

by misreall



Series: Loki And Nora's Infinity Stone Playlist [24]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Jack the Ripper - Freeform, Jail, Kissing, Making Out, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Time Shenanigans, Time Travel, general bad behavior, jail break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: Loki and Nora visit London and break the time line.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Loki / Nora, Loki/Sigyn (Marvel)
Series: Loki And Nora's Infinity Stone Playlist [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/520786
Comments: 84
Kudos: 82





	1. They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.  - Andy Warhol

“Shit.” 

Loki didn’t swear very often, so Nora knew it was serious.

He looked at Nora, his eyes narrow and deeply irritated. The long, narrow knife in his hand dripped, and there was a very thin line of blood around the pure white cuff of his shirt where it was visible under his black suit coat. 

Even in the gaslight, it was brilliantly red.

The quiet of a Victorian London street in the dark hours of the morning was deeper and more unsettling than most of the nights Nora had known. Still, even in that quiet, there was a steady drip off of the eaves of one of the buildings, even though it had not rained that night, the clop of a horse and the ratchet of wagon wheels echoing between the damp bricks, and what must have been the soft paws of rats running along the gutters. 

And, of course, the screaming coming from the woman running away from them as fast as her heavy skirts and old walking boots would allow.

“You’re welcome!” Nora called after her, taking off the cunning little black hat Loki had perched on the elaborate, fake curls that he had created, along with her pine green walking dress, so they would blend in, using it to fan herself after the powerful wave of adrenaline left her flushed. 

Not that they did blend in, she thought, since Loki had, of course, dressed them for somewhere rather more exclusive and elegant than the East End. Looking at him in his beautifully tailored black suit and open frock coat, she really didn’t mind.

At least the blood wouldn’t show on the black, she thought, watching him pull the sleeve of the jacket over the bloodstains. Loki normally knew how to slit a throat without soiling himself, but he had been hurried and angry.

Angry at Nora, mostly.

She giggled a bit, realising she was about to become hysterical.

“Should it be this hot?” she asked, meaning both the weather and the sight of him.

“We need to go. Now,” he said, dropping that cheap blade that he’d effortlessly taken from the man who’d been trying to kill her, grasped her hand, and started to pull her along. 

Lifting her skirts to run, cunning hat dropped and forgotten, “Did you just kill Jack the Ripper? Did  _ we _ ?”

“Yes,” he answered tersely.

Then he stopped and turned, cupping her neck, her face, looking everywhere on her, “He did not harm you? He did not-,” he found a slice along the side of her dress, stopped by the layers of underpinnings and the long corset. Sliding a hand into it, so he could grasp her hip, he whispered, “Just because you are protected from age by Idunn’s apple you are not invincible. You must know this.”

Nora made a helpless gesture with her hands, “I actually hadn’t thought about the apple.”

Pulling her to him, pressing her hard against him, he buried his face against her throat, his heart beating hard enough to feel through the layers and layers of wool and linen, growling, “You are an  _ idiot _ !”

“I know, but I-, I know,” Nora wrapped her arms around him, feeling him shake. And she was. She really was. No excuses. She was a fucking idiot.

Since she was a girl Nora had always been fascinated with the Jack the Ripper killings. Who wasn’t? But she had a special connection to them, having been born on the 100th anniversary of the first victim’s murder. 

And when Loki had asked her if she wanted to do something special for her hundredth birthday Nora had known exactly what she wanted. 

To find out who killed that first victim.

Mary Ann Nichols. Known as Polly. Sometime domestic servant, sometime sex worker. A small woman with five children, who had just turned forty-three a few days before she was killed and became the starting point of one the most famous crime sprees in history. Probably the most famous.

Or, rather, she had been the starting point Nora thought, looking back to where the man who had been going to be Jack the Ripper lay with his throat cut and Mary Ann Nichols had run off screaming into the night. 

Trying to defend herself  _ to _ herself, Nora hadn’t been able to help it. She hadn’t planned it out or plotted it, it just happened. 

She and Loki were just going to watch and see who, pretending to be a client, followed Mary Ann into Buck’s Lane. Supposedly to pay for sex but actually to punch her in the face and nearly sever her head. 

They had been leaving, having seen the man’s face, and Nora was geeked up and disappointed in equal measure. He was just a guy. Just another piece of shit, dressed in old clothes, his face boring, his expression bland. Not a monster, just another murdering man. Mary Ann, with her new hat that she had been very proud of, since one of the last things anyone remembered her saying the night of her murder was that her new bonnet would help her make enough money to pay for a bed that night, was far more interesting.

Her jaunty walk. Her graying hair. Her resigned expression.

They _ had _ been leaving, really they had, when Nora heard the meaty twack of a heavy fist hitting a face, followed by Mary Ann’s cry. Her instincts took over and she was around the corner and had jumped on the fucker’s back before he or Loki knew what was happening. 

He had thrown her off and pulled his knife when Loki was on him, killing him with the same. 

“I knew something of this fashion would happen, I  _ knew _ it, and yet I acquiesced,” Loki raged at himself as he again took her hand and started them back to where he’d set up the time return point. “Now we shall have the Time Variance Authority’s attentions…”

“The what?”

“They police the time stream, making sure no one does things like what we just did, come along!” 

“Time cops? No way!”

Before he could answer - but not before he could roll his eyes at her, because they _ always  _ made time for the important things - there was a blinding white light that flooded the end of the darkened street and three figures dressed for all of the world like mall cops, each of them a white (naturally), bland-looking man with a bad haircut from sometime in the late 20th century, stepped out of it into the London gloom, their cheap, highly polished shoes all immediately getting soaked in something unspeakable. 

The resigned air they all had told Nora it wasn’t the first time this had happened to them, and they expected it to happen again, which was why the shoes were so cheap.

One of them held up a hand, “Prince Loki Laufeyson? Princess Nora Walsh-Laufeyson? You are under arrest for crimes against the fixed timeline of this iteration of the present universe, so please divest yourself of any and all weapons, items of magical origin, powerful stones from the beginning of this or any other iteration of the present universe, or recording devices and raise your hands.”

Loki straightened his cuffs and tilted his chin up so he was looking down his nose at them, “I really don’t think you have-” 

Another one of them, nodded upwards, “Oh, yeah, we heard we shouldn’t let you talk. Or move your hands.”

“I really don’t think-” Loki’s most regal-yet-amused drawl was cut off and whatever he was going to have said was lost when another bolt of white light roared down on them, taking them away.

“Sort of like the Bifrost, but not,” Nora thought, before she passed out.

“So you are a real Time Cop? I have to admit, when Loki told me that you guys existed I thought he was just fucking with me. Mentally, I mean. We were too busy for him to be fucking with me any other way. As you saw.” 

Nora tipped her chair back and put her feet up on the metal table, wishing she had a toothpick to chew on. 

The interrogation room looked just like something out of a 1970s cop show, from the cheap linoleum on the floors to the styrofoam cup of burned coffee with powdered creamer to the shitty speaker mounted near the top of the wall over the metal door that was scuffed and dented a bit. At least there was no two-way mirror on the wall, but then in Time and Space Jail, they could probably see through the walls. 

And they hadn’t shackled her. That was good.

She would be sure to tell Loki that when they got out. It might help keep him from going full Godzilla on the place. 

Probably not.

Looking around, Nora considered where they might be. For all she knew they  _ might  _ be in the 1970s. It would be an excellent place to hide both an illegal jail and a lot of police brutality. Although thus far, from coming to in a holding cell, through her processing, and changing into the khaki jumpsuit they had given her, everyone she had dealt with had the bland politeness of staffing company employees in the suburbs.

“I am an officer of the Time Variance Authority, not a ‘Time Cop,’ Your Highness, and I have a few que-”

“That is a time cop, officer. And no one calls me ‘your highness,’ partly because Odin refused to acknowledge our marriage, but mostly because it’s dumb. Then again, Thor is the king of Asgard now…”

He tried again. “Mrs. Laufeyson-”

Nora burst out laughing. The officer, who had introduced himself as Justice Daily, looked affronted. He was in his thirties and looked like a picture of him would show up if you typed the words ‘functionary’ in a search engine. Reasonably fit, reasonably tall, with not quite blonde hair and white skin that had clearly not seen any natural light in years, he was making a real effort to be professional.

He was cute, in a harried yet officious sort of way.

Nora wasn’t helping. She hadn’t been helping since she’d been arrested and processed, and she wasn’t helping now that she was dressed in a jumpsuit and sitting on an uncomfortable chair in a very stuffy interrogation room, after having been strip-searched and forced to take a shower with shitty, cheap soap.

It made her itchy. 

The whole situation was making her itchy and hysterical. She and Loki had been arrested so many times and yet they still managed to find new organizations and governments to get on the wrong side of. 

“Sorry,” she said, composing herself, “it’s just no one had ever actually said that out loud. Mrs. Laufeyson.” She put a hand to her chest and said, in a high, prissy voice, “Mrs. Laufeyson … god, that sounds ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as when your amigo called me Princess when they arrested us. As I said, when you were processing me, my name is W-A-L-S-H, Walsh. Nora. N-O-R-A. Unless my husband is saying it. Then it's N-O-R-A-A-A-H. Or, even N-O-R-A -A-A-A-A-H-H-H, but that’s only in private.” She leaned loosely forward, and arm draped on the table between them and smiled slowly. “Call me Nora. I don’t think we are in an extra vowels sort of relationship. Yet.”

“Ms. Walsh-” Daily’s voice was flustered, and blushed just a little

“That works, too.”

“Ms. Walsh, I would like to assure you that we at the TVA recognise that while you are technically speaking a time criminal - Ms. Walsh this is NOT a laughing matter - that while you are technically a time criminal you are not in any way responsible for the crimes that you have engaged in. That you not only couldn’t be, but that you had no way of knowing that they were crimes at all. However, ignorance of the law is no defence.”

“You have very nice eyes. Do you need those glasses, or are they just to make you look more serious?”

Ignoring her, Officer Daily went on, “But it can be considered an extenuating circumstance. One that, when taken into account with the fact that your … er … Husband -”

“Yes, speaking of Loki, something you should know. If you need to hold him for a while, that’s fine. We both understand that. I am sure his brother, the All-Father of the Nine Realms and the God of Lightning will understand it as well. Not like he hasn’t locked him up before himself. But you really, really need to let me go. The sooner the better. In fact, I suggest you use some of the timey-wimey stuff - I’m assuming you’re Dr. Who fans? Some of the timey-wimey stuff you have to put me back where you found me and make like this never happened. Because…”

Nora leaned forward, and stared into Officer Daily’s eyes, “Loki very much takes it badly when people imprison me, dress me in crappy jumpsuits, and really hates it when they strip search me.”

“Ms. Walsh, I don’t think you understand the severity of your infraction.”

“And I don’t think you understand that if you don’t let me go, he’s going to burn this place to the ground.”


	2. The Big Birdcage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gets asked some questions.

Loki waited with what might have seemed like placid patience to an ignorant outside observer.

Loki was  _ never  _ patient. 

Other than sexually. 

Rather he preferred to think he was conserving his energy as well as trying to keep from having a migraine from the horrible appearance of the room. The walls swirled with colors - many of them outside of the visible spectrum for many creatures - which were dizzying, as well as causing them to seem to move. Sometimes they looked far away, giving eye strain to anyone trying to focus on them, other times it was if he was about to be crushed. 

The floor and ceiling were mirror-like but dark, with lights running along them that made it seem as though they stretched upwards and downwards past the point of infinity. Even if such a thing were impossible it was still unpleasant. That uncomfortable seat he slouched in, designed for much different physiognomy than his, was the only piece of furniture in the place meant he had nothing to focus on and could not even meditate. 

As was fitting for a being of his power the room was designed to be disorienting, making it more difficult to choose an angle of attack or to find a weak point if there should be one. As there was no way of knowing how long he had been unconscious while being changed into the unfortunate uniform of a TVA prisoner, he could not even estimate how long it had been since being captured.

Had someone with either magical or psychic abilities scanned the room, they would no doubt have found a number of wards, sigils, and mystic locks that would make it impossible for all but the most powerful magician to escape, especially when combined with those aforementioned disorienting effects. Or so Loki presumed. 

He was too busy causing himself to have that damned headache.

He ran things through his head, trying to knot up his thoughts in case there was some type of mental scanning taking place. Anything that would confound his own thoughts - or simply tie them up in knots - would do. Plots of old plays. Spells that he could never quite master. Recipes for cookies. Ground plans to various places he had broken into. Song lyrics. Names of various herbs and their uses medicinal, culinary, magical, or just for funsies. How to pair different shades of yellow with each other without looking like a children’s’ party performer. 

A doorway appeared in one of the walls, causing the swirling colors to stop so he could see he was in an otherwise highly standard interrogation room. Even a slightly shabby one, he sniffed mentally, compared to any number of the others he’d been in. 

Headache averted, Loki stroked his hair slowly, pushing it behind his ears, and waited.

The TVA officer had that combination of blandness with harried stress that was the hallmark of all government workers who knew that they had reached their career apotheosis despite being nowhere near retiring. Loki was only vaguely aware of what his actual features looked like, registering him only as a pale shape wearing horn-rimmed glasses and cheap shoes, topped off with a blonde crewcut. As he entered a utilitarian table and chair appeared. With a sigh, he dropped a standard file folder closed with a binder clip holding what looked to be only a few sheets of paper within it onto the tabletop. “Sorry for the wait, Your Highness, I’m Officer Calendar and I’ll be handling your case.”

Loki, despite the unfortunately shaped chair, sat very straight, heartily disliking that its short legs gave him a height disadvantage to Calendar. “Forgive me if I find the idea of  _ that _ being my case file both laughable and offensive,” he gestured dismissively - with the sort of grace that came from centuries of dismissing things - with the back of his hand towards the offending folder. “Also, if we are going to be formal I prefer to be referred to as ‘Your Majesty,’ as I am the true-born king of Jotunheim. In absentia.”

He flicked a strand of hair that had come loose back into place.

“Right… Mr. Laufeyson, then...”

Loki nodded grandly. 

Calendar snapped the little wings of the binder clip up with a resounding ‘click’ that echoed through the room. There was a creak of metal as the file started to bulge alarmingly, the number of papers within it growing, and then a loud ‘pang’ as it flew off hard enough to strike one wall, bounce off it with continued momentum, flying overhead so both Loki and the officer had to duck before hitting the door hard enough to partially embed itself there.

The file folder tore open, as a four-foot-high stack of heavily tabbed pages swayed precariously and continued to grow. 

Loki gave a satisfied smile, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back trying to get comfortable. “Yes, that looks more like it.”

The first part of the questioning was nothing exceptional. 

How had he and his accomplice/spouse achieved their unauthorised temporal movement?

Loki tented his hands, lightly tapping his forehead with his pointer fingers, as if wrestling with a difficult thought. “How to answer…? How _ to  _ answer….? Ah! Of course! It is none of your business.”

Had their intent in traveling to the past been to disrupt the current, authorized timeline in which they lived?

“That one is easier.”

The officer waited.

Loki shook his head, “I said it was easier, I did not say I was going to answer you.”

Was he - and by extension his spouse/accomplice - aware that by killing a major figure in Terra’s history, one whose existence and crimes had lasting and substantive effects in the worlds of law enforcement, forensic sciences, all branches of the arts, particularly but not limited to fiction and non-fiction writing and film, psychology, crime both organized and otherwise, sex work, social work, poverty law, and beyond, in addition to being an influence, both benign and malignant, to more individuals than could possibly be counted even by an organization as extensive as the TVA?

“Allow me to answer your question with another question? Can I have a glass of water?”

Had they colluded with any of the following groups or individuals in their attempts to endanger the stability of the Multiverse: Doctor Doom, the being called Legion, Lucas Bishop, the Secret Empire, the Kree, any living iteration of Thanos from outside of their timeline, Luther Manning, the Doctor, H.G. Wells, Julian West, Buck Rogers, Group Green, Baba Yaga, oops, sorry, we know about that one. The Uptimers, Plum or Jane Chatwin, Claire Randall or any members of the Fraiser clan, Five Hargreeves, the Master, Thursday Next, Charles Yu, Donna Noble, Keanu Reeves….

“I’m going to stop you right there. Basically, because I stopped listening around the time you said ‘Doom’.”

Officer Calendar shook his head, “Mr. Laufeyson, I can’t help you if you won’t help me.”

“Officer Calendar, no one can help me. So, so many have tried and only Nora has ever succeeded, and even she has been known to cast her hands into the air from time to time and say, ‘Fine. Just don’t ruin the carpet this time, it’s new and it took forever to pick out.’ She’s very concerned about wastefulness. Speaking of Nora, I want to see her.”

“Actually,” Calendar started to make an unconscious motion to close the file, clearly something he had done a thousand times, realized it was physically impossible, and sighed deeply, “I have to admit that I am surprised you didn’t ask me about her before now. All of our records indicate that you are extremely devoted to her. But we have been here for several hours now and nothing. That doesn’t strike me as devotion, Mr. Laufeyson.”

Loki smiled, lightly sucking on the end of a bit of his hair. “Your records are excellent. I am -” he stood, listening to an alarming number of his vertebrae pop and crackle, spreading his arms wide, “for all intents and purposes and to paraphrase a great poet, a veritable sea of devotion to my beautiful, charming, wise Nora. She is the center of my gravity, the kick in my pants, the reason I NEVER forget to use a root strengthener in my hair care regime.”

“Then you might want to consider her future if not your own. A crime like the one you committed is more than enough to see you locked up until even you die of old age. My understanding is Mrs. Laufeyson-”

Loki threw his head back and laughed maniacally, in full supervillain mode, loud enough that even Calendar couldn’t hear himself. When it finally died down to a few evil chuckles, he tried again, “I mean Ms. Walsh has in the not too distant past been gifted with a life-extending item called,” he referred to some of his papers, “‘Idunn’s apple’, am I pronouncing that right?”

Loki held his hand out flat and waggled it back and forth in the multi-universal sign for ‘sort of, but no.’

“While we can ignore the fact that extending the life of a Terran by several millennia or more is potential a time crime in and of itself since she has been given dual citizenship by King Thor, what you should not ignore is that if you refuse to cooperate you will be condemning her to those same millennia in one of our facilities. 

“In general population.”

“What?” Loki’s eyes slit and his voice was slippery and clipped at once. Which seemed impossible but he had a very agile mouth.

“While for someone with your skills, powers, and natural attributes there will have to be special accommodations made - and they will be, we have five thousand, nine hundred and forty-seven pages on your various escapes and breakouts - your wife, long life aside seems little more than a standard Terra female.” He flipped through a few pages, “Despite her studying magic with both you and hmm… Baba Yaga. Really? Impressive… she has shown little to no aptitude for anything beyond some very low-level workings. Nothing that our standard security systems can’t contain.

“And while it looks like you have spent some time teaching her some self-defense it won’t do her much good inside with some of the beings we are holding here. More than a few of whom have good reason to not be your biggest fans, Loki.”

Gasping in horror, Loki slammed his hands down on the table, the force sending the sheets from his file everywhere, so they fell slowly through the air like a snowfall capable of giving a fatal number of papercuts. “You cannot! Nora is innoc- alright, she is nowhere near innocent but this was all my doing. It would be the same as murder if you put her in with those monsters and miscreants.” 

Calendar pushed his glasses up with one finger, his voice no longer that of a slightly weary functionary. Now he was pure cop. “I’m sure she can survive a few days. She’s lasted how many years with you, after all? Still, if you have any doubts you could stop this at any time.” Reaching into his pocket he fished out a small, flat device that he pointed towards one of the walls. 

Now, in place of the sickeningly swirling colors, there was a view of a massive, multi-tiered prison, it’s levels stretching beyond sight. 

The entire thing was fairly standard for its kind, with most of the tiers outfitted for the bi-pedal, carbon-based lifeforms, with a few others clearly meant for aquatic creatures, invertebrates, elementals, and so on, other than its size. But then, if you were locking up creatures that were breaking laws across a multiverse that would cause said multiverse to even be more multi than it already was, and some of them didn’t even know that such laws existed, or there was such a thing as a multiverse, let alone that they were breaking those laws, then you needed a very big prison indeed. 

At the moment most of the cells were open, and the prisoners, watched by heavily armed guards, moved freely, many converging on the main floor which was a vast, open space filled with benches, screens showing soap operas and talk shows from around the multiverse, some exercise equipment, and the other paraphernalia familiar to anyone who’d been held in durance vile. 

While some of the prisoners were there due to misunderstanding, it wasn’t true that most of the prisoners were innocent babes captured by the big, bad TVA, being dangerous and powerful enough to fuck with time. 

Yes, every hundred years or so within every given timeline some poor bastard would stumble across an object of power in senile relative’s attic, or some klutzy non-entity would trip over their own feet in the wrong laboratory and then the next thing you knew they were zapped back in time and accidentally killing Hitler’s father when he was a teenager, or knocking Genghis Khan into the path of an arrow when he was still just little ol’ Temüjin Borjigin.

Those ones probably didn’t last long in stir, Loki thought, tossing his hair back with a sneer at Calendar as he saw the steel gate to the common space open, with a guard who motioned for her to keep walking. 

She was carrying a folded blanket and a paltry pillow. As they walked through the crowded space silence and whispers, hungry gazes and shark dead eyes followed. It was clear that the authorities had made no secret who the newest inmate was. Nora had during their marriage earned a little infamy of her own, which added to Loki’s meant she not only had to worry about actual enemies but also those who would enjoy being able to boast they had done something terrible to his wife and there was nothing he could do about it.

The guard led her up the metal stairs.

That khaki jumpsuit did nothing for her ass, Loki thought, noting carefully which tier and then which cell she was assigned.

Not looking away from the screen, he asked, “Who will she be sharing that cell with?”

“Don’t worry, we aren’t going that far. Yet. I’ll leave you to your viewing.” Calendar stood up, the chair screeching across the smooth floor. “Unless you have anything you wanted to tell me?” 

He watched Loki watching the guard leave the cell, slowly gathering papers.

Several of the other prisoners, after the guard was back down the stairs, signaled to each other and made their ways, none too subtly, towards that open cell door.

“Calendar?”

The officer stopped, “Yes?”

“About that water?”

“You are a cold motherfucker, Laufeyson, even for a Frost Giant. I’ll have the water sent with your meal. Enjoy.”

So that Loki could concentrate on the view of gen pop, the rest of the wall effects were not turned back on. After a while a guard, her face as uninteresting as it was harsh, dropped off a tray holding a sandwich made with components almost entirely unlike bread, cheese, and meat, a little bag with animal crackers, and a small, paper cup of water.

Loki sat back in the uncomfortable chair and popped crackers in his mouth, watching.

He watched creatures - crude and guileful alike - enter Nora’s cell and then exit some time later, looks of grim satisfaction or outright joy on their faces. Some of them even high-fived, or seven-ed, depending on their number of fingers.

Each face he made a point of remembering. Needing something to do with his hands, he braided and unbraided his hair.

Eventually, a bell rang signaling the end of the free period sending all of the prisoners back to their cells, save the few who had work assignments. 

Then all was dark but far from quiet. Shrieks, cries, songs, prayers, and all manner of noises that could not be heard before over the noise from the common area could be made out. 

Nora’s cell was perfectly silent.

Finally, that noise tapered off, so only breathing and snores and the off sound of someone jolting from a nightmare or engaging in some illicit, muffled fucking could be heard. 

Hours passed. 

Loki finally got desperate enough to eat the sandwich.

The prisoners who had assignments were returned to their cells. 

One of the guards walked close to Nora’s cell. 

If you were looking, it seemed like he opened the cell long enough to look in and then immediately closed it again. 

If you were  _ really _ looking you would see that the door opened from the inside, the guard was yanked in and just as quickly stepped back out again, without a hair out of place.

And if you were really,  _ really _ looking you would notice that the same guard, who spent a while trying to fix the wrinkles in his ugly uniform and tacky black nylon jacket before giving it up as hopeless, looked into the camera, winked a shockingly green eye and blew a kiss to whoever was watching. 

There was a sound like tinkling glass, signaling the breaking of the transposition.

“About damned time,” Nora said, rolling up the legs of the now too long jumpsuit, relieved that it was now looser in the crotch. 

Having a penis, even for only a day or so, was so annoying. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
